A One Track Mind
by Jayni
Summary: reformatted21PWP : Some time away from the hassles of war, Duo and Heero get a moment to let their minds wander, and they seem to be heading in the same direction Lunch. Rated PG13 for mild shounen ai.
1. Duo's Moment

It was a slow day. Duo Maxwell is not one to be idle. 'No, no I'm not.' He was sprawled out on the lush grass in a secluded part of the Winner estate... stranded. Wufei was off worshipping Nataku, and all of his attempts to pull Heero away from his laptop had deemed fruitless.

'I hope he dies from wrist cramps from typing so damned much.' ...young Maxwell pouted. He knew he didn't want that to happen - he freaked every time Heero did overkill kamikaze stunts. Every time he saw Heero go for his sidearm, his heart pounded like a fat man at the door of an all-you-can-eat buffet.

'I must be really bored to think up imagery like that,' Duo sneered... such ugly expressions weren't meant for his heart-shaped face. His forehead would crinkle, and his lips would purse... and he looked constipated. There was little if any other way to describe it. Which is why he usually settled for pouting in public... but since no one was around anyway, he'd risk breaking his cool facade.

'Sleek charming Duo...that's me,' he paused. Truly, his charms were wasted here. He looked left... and then right. Nobody. His gaze wondered back to the huge estate... flirting with the maids was occasionally fun, until one of the older servantry would scold him and he'd be shooed out of the picture. In a fluid motion he sat up, his knees propped up, resting his elbows on them, in a rather lazy posture. His arm dropped to the grass, finding one of the longer blades to gnaw on.

'Trowa and Quatre have abandoned me...the only people who could stand me for extended periods of time, and they had to go and couple up on me. Great.' He smirked bitterly. Happy for them, he was. Envious, definitely. Duo's eyes wandered to the emptiness on either side of him and sighed deeply. He felt out of place here at Quatre's... welcome, but very much out of place. This isn't the type of place orphans turned soldiers end up... unless you're Rambo-Annie. The American's eyebrow twitched... the longer he kept out of touch with people, any people, his thoughts and charm were gonna get more warped and beyond wasted. The longer he kept out of touch with people... the longer he remembered the past.

'Maybe I should go try Wufei...again.' Duo nixed the idea as soon as it had been conceived. Wufei would skewer him if he came between him and his beloved Gundam. Naughty pictures flushed into Duo's mind...and he quickly shook them off. To be perfectly honest, he didn't WANT to see Wufei alone with his Gundam. A guy whose only companion is something that doesn't have a pulse... it's time to worry.

...then again, Duo's best friend in arms was Death. His hand moved to scratch at the back of his neck... where miraculously he found many of the hairs on the base of his neck scratching back in a standing ovation. Truthfully, he didn't like Death. To be surrounded by it constantly. To have the Grim Reaper know what size underwear he wore. It was just something that was there. And he was akin with it. The image he had of Death was a reflection of what he was to others in the driver's seat of Deathscythe... Duo squirmed in his spot, suddenly finding the need to get up and move around, insisting to himself that it was because his foot would fall asleep or something if he didn't. He began to stalk back to the house, since he truly had little if anywhere else to go... that dampened his mood. Determined to be back to his happy go lucky self by the time he got back to the house... within eyeshot of anyone, he tried to think happy thoughts. What was happy about being stranded with nowhere to go? ...he winced. If he went back to his home... he had nothing to go back to. Nothing structured anyway.

'No picket fences in my future,' he shrugged nonchalantly... he was getting some humor back at least, and he could form a smirk on his lips. Mercenary and theft was no longer in his style. Well, okay, it was, but could he go back to the streets after being lavished with Winner riches? The future was a mystery for him... he basically figured out the other pilots destinies. Wufei would become the leader of some great dojo or something, or become a philosophy scholar or something like that. Heero would end up in intelligence in some world organization - under Relena no less. Duo visibly shuddered as a cold shiver ran throughout his entire body. If someone had been passing by, they would've thought he was having a seizure. He did NOT like that thought ended... Heero being under Relena. Another cold shiver, causing him to trip over his own foot and fall flat on his face.

'Cool...sleek Duo,' he frowned into the soft ground and he slowly peeled off of it. Sputtering a trail of curses mixed with blades of grass, re-evaluating his last thoughts. When he'd first met Relena, he didn't mind so much. Sure she popped out of nowhere and waved like a maniac at himself and Heero... more at Heero, of course. If she had been anyone else, with a LOT less money, she would've been named a stalker and probably locked up and slapped with a restraining order. In her case, she's queen of the world. What are the odds?

Before he could continue with his train of thought, he was rudely interrupted by a loud noise. Duo jumped in his place... he hadn't expected anything, his guard was down now... his eyes darted around frantically, and then the noise again... accompanied with a shuddering stomach. 'Great, I'm jumping at my own stomach grumbling at me. Paranoid, me? Never...' He stopped with the quips and moved onto more important priorities. His stomach. He stalked back to the house, slicing the thick silence with a persistent whistling.


	2. Heero's Moment

The soldier sat rigidly at his desk in his private quarters of the estate, with a steady typing speed of 125 words per minute at his laptop. It wasn't anything special... life had basically settled down, and there was nothing to do but be prepared for the next assignment. So he sat, cleaning his computer and taking into account all of his assets, and upgrading the security features on his laptop. In reality, he had been done long ago. For efficiency, he was reworking the system several times over, as he had the time. He would have done so, regardless. It was the best way to do things. It was the order of things. Things had to be done a certain way, and had to be done right. There could be no loose ends. No bridges to burn.

'One track mind.' Even his thoughts were open-ended statements. No clarification was needed. Concise and to the point. He saw nothing in the future, and did everything to ignore the past. The future... in due time, meant leaving the security of the Winner grounds. Other than that, he knew little more. He wasn't there to be concerned about such things. Bred to fight, and to keep fighting. For his entire life, he fought for others. For the sake of others. At the command of others. His fingers stopped tapping at the keys. He found himself staring blankly at the computer screen until everything became blurry. Survival wasn't even a priority to him. The objective came before him. What was the objective now, though? Nothing was happening. He wasn't being sent somewhere or blowing something up. So what the hell was he doing? Satisfied that he was done with his computer work... he did the unimaginable. He turned the laptop off and closed it. To see him now would be to mistake him for a human being.

'A soldier.' That he was. A fancy name for a weapon produced from human resources. Proficiency, efficiency... and a bunch of other "iencies" were the principles he had known and conformed to. Conformity. He wondered about that. Passing from school to school, he often saw how students cling to conformity hoping for acceptance from their peers. That had never been an issue for him. School for him was less of a learning experience and more of a time-out from fighting and planning to fight. This idleness gave him time to think. It was disturbing. His cold blue gaze moved to the window, watching a bird feed it's young. Children are nestled in their mother's bosom, and cradled there till they can walk, and then walk alone under their parents protective gaze... and then move forth into the world on their own, to spread their own wings. Only wing he knew had a beam cannon capable of blowing up a space colony. What a pleasant thought.

'Sarcasm is Duo's department.' ...true. Maybe Heero had been irreversibly contaminated by the long-haired pilots influence. The boy who called himself Death... ironically the same boy who bounces about laughing and cheering and flirting at every turn, fueled by the amusement and attention of all those around him. Violet eyes set in a heart-shaped face... Death in the shape of heart. Now that's unexpected. Then again, if Relena can be proclaimed queen of the world. . .

Heero lips turned upwards funnily. His face felt stiff when he tried to smile or smirk, he was so unaccustomed to it. He'd practiced regular gestures and things in front of the mirror, it was necessary in order to divert suspicions in certain situations. Something so natural... being trained. Something was wrong with that. A little corner of Heero's unconscious knew that, but damned if he'd ever admit it. When he was in front of the mirror, he felt foolish. He looked foolish. These so-called natural gestures were awkward. His gaze focused on the window to his reflection...trying another smile. Wincing internally, he stopped almost immediately. What the hell did he have to smile about anyway? His reflection...the brief image of him trying to smile was engraved into the back of his eyelids when he closed them. Gross. Ugly. Awkward. Bride of Frankenstein stuff we're talking about.

'Another quip,' he scolded. Duo's department again. He felt his lips turn up again, stopping himself once more. Gaining control. Always in control. His body was his to control. Even Wing Zero... a Gundam, he didn't control. The missions he took, the things he was ordered to do, he had no control over whatsoever. He had control over himself. Didn't he?

His body decided the answer was "no" when a low rumbling noise emerged from beneath his trademark green tank top. Some things will ever be out of his control. He grinded his teeth together, disturbed by the notion, as he stood up... as rigid as when he was seated, and headed for the kitchen.


	3. Lunch Time

When Heero arrived in the kitchen, he saw a sandwich on the table. No, a sub. A very large sub. It could easily be five inches from top to bottom, and maybe a foot long. Wait. Not just a sandwich. Slowly... from the top of the sandwich appeared a layer of chestnut color...slowly, the widow's peak on a porcelain forehead...and then violet eyes, wide with awe and glinted with hunger, and soon to follow, the gaping drooling mouth. Heero stood silently in the door way, unnoticed.

Duo on the other hand, had his entire focus... all of his energy... in the work of art before him. Yes. This could not get better. All the sustenance to feed the entire L2 colony packed and condensed into the marvelous grandeur of the sandwich in front of him. If only love were as easy as a sandwich... find the ingredients, put it together, it's there, and you engulf it wholly. Which Duo proceeded to do... rather noisily.

Heero hadn't expected that. It was something out of a comic book. Could someone's mouth possibly get that open and welcoming of something that size? Okay, a comic book or a porn movie.

'Porn?' Heero's mind questioned. Had he ever used such a crude word before meeting the other Gundam pilots, particularly the one devouring a magnanimous sub in front of him? He mentally shook his head. The expression on his face never changed, but he wasn't sure whether he should be hungrier or if he had just lost his appetite.

After several minutes of loud chomping, swallowing, and swiping his mouth on his sleeve crudely... Duo was done. However, the mess had just begun. The entire table and himself were littered with bread crumbs... his usually black garb covered with speckled grass, dirt, and crumbs. Not to mention his hair. Duo brushed his hands on his pants... not really concerned about his clothes, but his hair? Now, to get his priorities straight in the Maxwell fashion - hair now, mess later. He just didn't realize that at this point they were one and the same.

The bored restlessness on the lawn previously had left quite a green impression on the chestnut locks...Duo's gaze darted around for a mirror. Oh sweet vanity, never shalt thee escape me, the charming debonair sleek handsome -- an interruption. As he was lost in his thoughts about - well, himself, he didn't know which came first, the grumbling of his intruder's stomach or the discreet cough. He looked to see who it was.

"Heero! Ol' buddy ol' pal! So, I bet your retinas needed a break huh?" He had spots of various condiments littering his lips, around the toothy grin of his. Pearly whites. For a person so messy, he sure was vain. Heero mused at this... well, mused is a broad term. He thought of it in a context of which he was unaccustomed to and which occasionally drew out that ugly smirk of his. His actions in response to Duo's sudden reaction was to give him the brush off, and then he casually moved over, in an uncharacteristic fluid motion, and looked into the fridge.

"We're out of ham, and turkey... oh and that leftover bacon from this morning's gone too...but there should be some lettuce left..." he had left out the part about how it was the damaged or decaying leaves of lettuce which he left over. Well, Heero had a cast iron stomach, he was sure, so why warn him? Duo continued to hunt for a reflective surface. A shrill cry had proved that he had found one.

Heero spun around, alert as ever, and reaching for his gun... which wasn't there, but only to see Duo starring dumbfounded at a metal tray. It was one of the elaborate ones that the servants used for tea time. That made Heero think. Where were the servants? His gaze panned the kitchen.

'Probably cleaning up one of his other messes.' He stifled a smirk, and continued rummaging through the fridge. In Duo's raid, he had neglected to find the well camouflaged tupperware of teriyaki chicken in the far corner of the vegetable bin. This time, he didn't bother hiding the smirk, until he suddenly fell under the scrutiny of a pair of violet eyes. The smirk disappeared quickly, shutting the vegetable bin.

Duo watched him close the refrigerator door, but was in his line of passage to the microwave. They stared at each other for a couple seconds. Remembering the state of his hair, Duo returned to looking into the tray and picking stuff out of his hair... with several whines and gasps of frustration. There was a flicker in Heero's gaze, but Duo could've imagined it. The next sound from the spirited long-haired one could only be described as a "hmph." He moved back into Heero's way, using the microwave as his reflective surface now... the border of microwave window was enough like a mirror, and plus it was easier anyway, he didn't have to hold it. Although, he did have to lean over a bit, which was a little troublesome, but it was for the sake of his mane, so the sacrifice was pending.

"Hey Heero, take my advice, don't grow your hair out long, man..." he found a clean dish cloth in his face, attached to Heero's hand, "Thanks." He looked over the rest of himself. Boy, he was in a state. He couldn't fix his hair the way it was... he'd have to let it loose, and comb the stuff out. From what he could tell, there wasn't anything that needed to be washed out, plus Duo was Duo which was synonymous with lazy at this point. A full stomach makes a guy kinda lax, almost drowsy,"...not to say I would ever cut my hair mind you. But it's there already. That mop on your head suits ya fine. To say if you ever wanted to grow out your hair, far be it for me to object... but if you want my honest opinion--" his gaze wondered over to Heero, hearing that discreet cough again. He looked less than impressed...and Duo looked a lil' stunned since he never expected to be interrupted - at least by Heero... and without the help of a sidearm.

"Mop?" Okay, so he wasn't particular vain with his hair. But he kept it well-groomed, as a soldier should. He'd been against doing the buzz cut thing entirely... so it showed he had some reverence for his brown locks. If he hadn't been so composed, one would've thought he was offended.

"Well...yeah." Heero had to excuse Duo, as it would seem he used the term "mop" endearingly, however had a lack of vocabulary. Heero shrugged dismissively, opening the microwave door at the ding... causing Duo to start and stand up straight so he wasn't smacked in the face. He carefully pulled out the container, and rested it on top of the microwave, and shut the door. Moving around Duo, he moved to the sink, where several plates were drying... he took one of those, at least the driest one, giving it a little rub down with a nearby dishcloth. When he turned around, he actually did a double-take. Duo's hair was unraveled around him, and he looked...well, effeminate. Not to say he didn't regularly with his hair so blasted illogically unnecessarily long... but this way it made his slight form even... well, slighter. Duo caught the way Heero was looking at him, and was a lil'...disconcerted. "Okay, man, no wise cracks," he pulled out a comb from his jacket...which could easily be held in his palm. Heero creased his brow.

"That's what you're going to use?" he hadn't meant to sound so condescending, but the ratio of hair to comb was like... well, himself to a Gundam. Heero moved to the rice cooker, plopping some rice onto his plate... as his hand reached for the teriyaki tupperware, however, it was promptly smacked by the side of a comb.

"I'd have you know that this comb has gotten me through some rough times. It has sentimental value. Do you think I carry combs around with me all the time or something?" Heero's eyes said yes.

"Oh shut up," Not like Duo needed to say it. Heero wouldn't have said much anyway. His reply was a simple shrug as he got a fork from a nearby drawer and emptied the teriyaki over the rice. The smell instantly dispersed into the air, and Duo sighed audibly. Heero gave him a side long glance. "What? It smells good... but y'know. If ya wanna keep a balanced diet, boy scout, I'm thinkin' ya should throw it some veggies."

"Veggies," Heero said blankly. Duo had to laugh. The word just did NOT fit properly on Heero's tongue. Mental note - what does? Well THAT train of thought was stopped in it's tracks. Duo shuffled to the fridge, fishing out a smaller container of steamed vegetables... left over from last night. Heero near frowned... Duo stopped laughing. However, Heero never denied the vegetables, now did he?

'My portion.' So he didn't like steamed vegetables. 'specially broccoli. What person in their right mind did? It looks like a miniaturized tree or something. Would you eat a tree? 'I don't think so.' He popped it into the microwave for a couple seconds and then slid it across the counter to Heero...without hearing the definite answer that he wanted them or not, but now he's gonna have to eat them.

Duo got a mischievous grin...'No veggie leftovers for me tonight...noooo sir...' Wufei was usually the one to press the vegetable issue. He could see it now... "Maxwell. The dietary food groups are not cheese, pepperoni, condiments, and grease. The injustice you do your stomach." Wufei and his injustices. Bah.

Heero was not sure what to make of Duo's expression. Had he drugged the vegetables? No. He wouldn't have touched them if they weren't slathered in mayonnaise and various other saturating condiments. The short-haired boy wondered why Duo bothered. He could just shove a tube of KY down his throat and have the same nutritional satisfaction.

'Another quip,' Heero scolded himself, pressing his lips thinly together, suppressing the urge to make that ugly smirk. He'd watch Duo's movements carefully. Watching his hair swirl around him... it made him think of something out of Little House on the Prairie or something. When the heck did Heero have a chance to see that? He couldn't remember, but he added the vegetables to his plate, surprised that Duo had said something...sensible.

"You're welcome," he heard Duo say. He nodded... which somehow he figured translated into "Thanks." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Duo combing through parts of his hair, shaking out broken or dead hairs onto the floor along with green specks and bread crumbs. Heero didn't realize he scoffed.

"Whaaaat?" Duo looked over through a curtain of chestnut hair. He looked at what Heero was looking at. Yet another Maxwell mess, "Hey. It's to give the help something to do." Now if only he could convince himself of that. Maybe he was just terminally messy... maybe it was a medical condition. Who knew. His eyes followed Heero to the kitchen table, which he had to clean off Duo's mess in order to find a place to eat, although only pushed the plate Duo had been using toward Duo. He suffered the Yuy death glare. "I'll wash it when I'm done with my hair,"... 'Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me. Please don't...hey, he just went back to eating. Score one for me. Sweeeet.' He looked into the microwave door again, satisfied, her put his hair back and braided it swiftly. Spinning around, with a lil' tap dance number, he struck a pose. He struck a pose for the perfect soldier. Does anyone have a camera?

Heero looked up from his meal. And just stared. It wasn't a glare. And it wasn't exactly wide-eyed either. It was just a stare. It was a Duo thing to do. He should've expected it. So why did it catch him so far off guard? Swallowing the bite he didn't realize he'd forgotten, he returned to his meal...with a gesture toward Duo's messy plate. He bit his lip from smiling when he heard a soft string of whines and curses. Although he wanted to smile... he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was standing in front of one of the best smilers he knew, it came so natural for Duo. And Quatre too. It must have been the ratio of cheek bone to actual epidermis, and the muscle structure might be more relaxed than - what the heck was Heero thinking about? It's a smile for crying out loud. Not rocket science. So then... why was it so fucking hard for him to smile. Unconsciously he stabbed at a piece of teriyaki chicken.

Duo started at the sudden clang of metal against porcelain... he must have figured it was a clue for him to hurry along with the dish washing. Heero must've caught him starring. It was because he was waiting for a reaction from stone cold Heero Yuy. Like he always did. At least with Wufei he'd get reprimanded. Even Trowa now... after being with open and sociable Quatre for so long (actually Duo wasn't quite sure how long, they were very discreet)... even made a soft tiny quip or something. But not just... a look. Which is all he ever got. A look. A glare. Or the occasional, "Omae a korosu." ...which he didn't translate until after the 102th time Heero had said it to him.

'I count the times he's threatened my person. That's good ol' cool Duo for ya...' he smirked at his own quip...he started whistling again, swishing this way and that to the rhythm of his hand as it circled the dish with a washcloth. His back was to Heero the entire time, but he swore he heard him...choke? Gag? So he looked over his shoulder casually at Heero.

...who was playing it off pretty well. 'Just keep eating. Ignore that baka American, that's the ticket,' a phrase he wouldn't have conjured up on his own. 'Baka.' So he continued methodically taking in his food, calmly, pacing himself carefully. Heero was now in a very withdrawn position...his elbow was now propped up on the table, and he was holding his forehead in his hand, his face downcast, as he brought the fork up to his lips...occasionally stabbing a vegetable or two. Hearing a very... disturbing clatter of porcelain, he glanced up wincing internally. Duo had clumsily dropped the dish into the drying rack... at least nothing was broken. He let his smirk slip... Duo caught it immediately.

"Whaaaaat?" Were Gundam pilots supposed to whine? Heero Yuy did not whine. Trowa... to his knowledge, did not whine. Wufei didn't whine... he just bitched. Quatre... okay, maybe Gundam pilots were supposed to whine after all. Maybe he'd have to take up lessons. Duo's expression changed, and Heero returned to it's stoic glory.

Was Heero...uh...it wasn't a smiled. It was something requiring lip movement in a northward fashion. Duo found it... out of character, but not quite appalling. It was better than being glared to death. Hey, what the hell was he worried about? --

'I am Death dammit,'... he grinned wickedly, unconsciously visibly to Heero. Who simply raised an idle eyebrow. He had to say something. The silence was... unnerving. Each of those 5 whole seconds - okay, 2... were excruciating.

"Enjoying your food there, Heero?" he was rewarded with a silent nod of the Japanese boy. Y'know when you see that rat on the floor... and it's not moving... and you're not sure if it's dead or not, so you grab a stick and start poking at it? Well, Duo felt the sudden urge to go break off a tree branch. Then again, he'd probably get himself shot. Well there were many ways to skin a cat!... if he couldn't use a real stick, he'd just poke at Heero verbally, and hope it doesn't end in bloodshed.

Heero heard, rather than saw, Duo seat himself across from him. He had that stuuupid grin on his face. His expression was less than pleased. Hadn't he made enough mess with his own lunch - let alone waltz into Heero's? When Heero's gaze focused onto his food, he'd noticed he'd comfortably mashed vegetables and rice in some nervous habit or something.

'Itchy trigger finger,' he decided it was. Couldn't be anxiety. What was there to be anxious about? Nothing. Absolutely nothing was going on. The sound of silence echoed in the halls of his mind, almost as still as the rest of world decided to be. Until it was shattered.

"Whatcha suppose Trowa and Quatre are up to right about now?" the voice wasn't so bad. Duo's voice was even... with a hint of cheer, and a glint of idle curiosity. Like a child. Pure. Heero could see his face without looking up. Clear violet eyes gazing out the window with a glint of naivety. Briefly free of whatever it was that he hid behind his laughter and cheer. A braid draped over his shoulder, the end of it coiled in slender finger tips. With the light coming from the window in a subtle five o'clock shadow...his bangs just off to the side, as he was in a usually relaxed pose. So loose. Not rigid. Not like Heero Yuy.

'I'm losing it. I'm idolizing a baka,' he thought... almost sacrilegious. Assuming he believed in God. He must have been out killing people that day of class. He understood and was well learned in the philosophies and ideologies behind divinity. But he was busy with other things. Where were the divine when the colonies were converted to a militant state? And where were they when a young Japanese boy yearned for a childhood.

"Is anyone home?" Duo was tempted to literally knock on Heero's skull. It's hard to tell what someone's thinking when they're trained not to show you. Tends to be one hell of a pain in the ass. When briefly saw Heero look at him, he took that as a "yes" and continued to banter. The idleness was gnawing at him, and all his charm was being wasted on inanimate objects. Not that Heero was that much of a promotion. "You don't suppose Trowa and Quatre are all kissy face right, now, eh?" he was rewarded with Heero making an audible "gulp." Duo grinned in turn, and acted out a little scene.

With cat like grace, he hoisted himself up on his tones, in a rather girlie pose...his knees bending a bit as he circled his arms in front of him as if embracing an imaginary friend, "Oooohh Trowa! insert loud exaggerated lip smacking sounds here." Did Heero cough? Duo then spun around, to mime the same embrace, but with his knees buckled so he was standing taller than before. "Yes, Quatre, little one...insert sloppier lip smacking sounds here." Switching back and forth several times... varying the "Ooohs" and "Aaahs"... Duo found that his effort was not getting the same results. Heero forms a tolerance for his antics very quickly, he found. So he sat pensively across from Heero at the table, staring at nothing.

After an extended silence, Heero looked up. The stillness was unnerving, especially for Duo. Was the American... frowning? Heero's eyebrows drew together tightly, in a very curious manner. The heart-shaped visage was shattered by the simple gesture. The frown contorted Duo's face in an unnatural way which made Heero want to stop eating. When Duo returned from where ever he was... he looked at Heero wide eyed.

"What," Heero...stated. It wasn't really a question. It was more of a demand for an answer. He knew Duo was about to say something, he just didn't know what. His eyebrows and creased brow relaxed to give a stone cold glare. Young Maxwell physically jumped.

"Is the moon in the wrong astral plane or something? Did I totally miss something?" Heero continued to stare blankly. "Man, I haven't seen you use so many expressions in my whole time knowing you let alone in a day," and then Duo did a daring thing. A very dangerous maneuver. However, he had been swept up in the moment when he gently slugged Heero's arm.

That was a bad idea. A fatally bad idea. Duo had decided to slug the arm which was basically suspending Heero's head above his plate. The sudden shift and imbalance had caused Heero to go face first into his lunch. At first, he'd expected a gun to be in his face by now. The seconds passed slowly. His head was kicking in with a mental "tick tock" noise... it made the stillness agonizing. Heero sat there, face down. He didn't move. He just stayed there.

"Eh, Heero man, I got ahead of myself, no hard feelings, eh?" The nice gesture would've been to hand Heero a napkin. Or a towel. Something to the effect of cleaning him up. However, the extended Maxwell logic was to... strike a pose. ...nothing. "Heero, man, you alive? C'mon man, it was an accident. Heero?! Heero!!" Duo was raising his voice now, the Japanese boy in front of him was perfectly still. Even if Heero didn't appear to hear it, anyone within a 10 mile radius did, and Wufei appeared in the doorway along with Trowa and Quatre, who had just returned from their outing.

"Is something wrong with Heero?" Quatre was the first to comment. His platinum eyebrows were drawn together, and his pale blue eyes sparkled with concern. His arm was curled around that of Trowa's, who stood there calmly, taking in the scene himself. The young master was inching towards Heero, when Trowa's calloused hand stopped him with the slightest touch. He looked up into the single emerald eye, the other covered by Trowa's anti-gravitational bangs, and nodded quietly, lingering in the door way with a mask of slight confusion.

"What did you do now Maxwell," Wufei's voice was stern, and Duo was physically taken back. The long braid wavered as Duo stalked backwards away from the door way, until he was at the table's corner, waving his hands madly as if to ward off a firing squad.

"NOTHING! I just uh, tapped his arm, and he dropped, just like that!" He snapped at "that" for emphasis. Wufei's expression didn't change. "He was eating, and he was like, TOTALLY unsociable AS usual..." Duo's arms danced around him in his wild gestures as he spoke - as if afraid to stand still in fear of attack. "So y'know, I tapped him, to y'know, uh... make sure he was alive, and then THIS..." He motioned to the still Heero.

"So why not tap him again?" Quatre looked at Duo curiously. The innocent gaze of the blond shot through the Maxwell logic, and into common sense. Wufei, Quatre, and Trowa simultaneously shook their heads when they could nearly see the light bulb flash over Duo's head.

'Hey what the hell. Can't get deader than Death, eh? Yeaaah...' Maxwell logic hand in hand with the dose of common sense of Quatre's... could not be good. Somewhere in the back of his head he had taken Quatre's words and distorted "tap" into "ruffle Heero's hair until he's force to look up and possibly strangle you."

"C'MON Heero buddy you're scaring the daylights outta everyone! Upsidaisy! Let's GO!" Duo's had was fully immersed in Heero's short locks, almost tugging them upwards to force his head up. He hadn't seen Heero's hand... twitch, not to mention tighten around the fork handle.

'...he's touching my...mop,' Was that a quip? 'Baka.' His reflexive action was to go for his gun, however, due to several attempt s to do so n the past - minute or so, was futile... so that wasn't an option. Heero analyzed the situation. He had several elements in his reach to improvise with. From the time of his... face to food incident - the human computer had been making a list : himself, food, chair, table, plate, and fork. Use of himself or other body parts could be overly damaging to his fellow pilot, and embarrassing depending on the body part.

'A quip. Baka.' The data analysis continued. Use of the food would make a mess, one that he would likely have to clean up, or the servants would have to rip themselves away from whatever destructive region that young Maxwell had decided to reek havoc. That's two down. The chair or the table were not property of his own, and although in any other circumstance he might have thought of it... the furniture was Quatre's, also a fellow Gundam pilot, who was also providing room and board out of his big hearted generosity. The plate had occurred to him, until there was a flicker of chestnut color in the corner of his eye.

'Duo's braid,' the soldier boy part of Heero's personality kicked in. Duo had his guard down, even enough to be touching his mop - er, hair. Time to strike would be now.

Duo's shrill cry escaped no one. No one had expected Heero's choice of attack, however, it was understood by all present. As the cries and squeals continued... Quatre covered his ears... Rather, Trowa covered them for him, clasping his larger hands over Quatre's smaller ones over his ears. Trowa himself was resisting to wince at the high notes that Duo could miraculously reach, he wondered if Heero attacked his hair or his groin. Wufei was gritting his teeth, when his fists curled up at his sides, using his meditative resources to shut out the noise. However, he was still displeased at the dance and ruckus Duo was making. No one lifted a finger to help him.

"ANYBODY SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING!" Poor Duo. Poor sweet Duo. He didn't know how to handle emergency very well. Then again, being pinned by your hair to a table by a fork wasn't an emergency. It was pure calamity.

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD FOR THE SAKE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY--"...and the heresy continued. Not to mention a string of ... more colorful language. Trowa was the first to move towards the table, and Duo quieted... looking awfully hopeful towards Trowa.

'It's a fork. Not an anvil,' Trowa thought, his lips pressed thinly together. He wasn't there to help Duo. He simply handed Heero a small clean dish towel, Heero... slowly, lifted up his face. Grains of rice and drops of sauce fell down the curves of his face. Some part of Duo felt the need to stop, point, and laugh... however, it came out as a wince, a flap, and a squawk.

Calmly wiping his face clean, and most of his chin, as well, Heero looked over at Duo. ... The American was in, tears? The violet eyes were hidden beneath lids shut in what seemed like pure agony, and the voice... the usually sweet vibrant voice was now broken and - well, tone deaf. He hadn't even dug the fork into the table THAT deep. He was surprised how with all the thrashing about, Duo just hadn't sent the fork flying. Heero concluded that Duo's vanity for his hair had subconsciously prevented any action against his mane. Nodding thanks to Trowa... and then to Quatre who was kind enough to take his plate and clean it, he sat there in his usual statuette manner and watched Duo. It was hard to... but Heero still felt compelled to. Vengeance wasn't in his program, but he had to teach Duo a lesson. You can't just cross Heero Yuy and get away with it. What would that do for his image?

Right then, his mind snapped. When the HELL did he care about image? He reached over, and did the simple, OVERLY simple task of removing the fork. It took a couple seconds for reality to set in for Duo, however, who kept tossing about like a mad man. Heero shook his head, and stifled a sigh. He watched Duo go back to his normal self... After a while of cursing, and musing about his hair. Heero wasn't listening, however. Just watching. Watching Duo Maxwell.

'One track mind.'


End file.
